Dutch Literature

Ever since reading Hans Brinker or The Silver Skates as a kid -- still a nice book! -- I've had a strong interest in all things Dutch. For a few years here in Northeast Wisconsin, I lived in Little Chute, a largely Dutch-American community founded by Dutch Catholics back in the 1840s. A committee in Little Chute is raising money to build a historically authentic Dutch windmill as a tourist attraction, and I was involved with that committee during the time I lived there.

One of the projects that the windmill project's executive director and I launched (with only marginal success, I'm afraid) was a Dutch-literature-in-translation reading group, which gave me a good excuse to tackle some of the Dutch (and Flemish) novels I'd been meaning to read for years. A number of these were on the subject of the Dutch colonial rule in Indonesia, which has been a fertile topic for Dutch literature (and which is the subject of an excellent study available in English, Mirror of the Indies by Rob Nieuwenhuys).

Here are the Dutch novels I have read or am reading. I have a lot more planned.

Frans Coenen, The House on the Canal -- I read this short novel by Coenen (1866-1936) back in 1984, and my notes indicate that it was "bizarre" and "fascinating"; I should read it again.

"Multatuli" (Edward Douwes Dekker), Max Havelaar -- This 1860 novel by a disgruntled Dutch colonial civil servant is the best-known work in Dutch literature and kicked off the entire Dutch-Indonesian sub-literature. For a mid 19th century work of fiction, it is decidedly odd and restless in its form, told in multiple voices and nestled layers of narrative -- not with entire success, but this sort of aesthetically challenging experiement was quite a few decades ahead of its time in European literature. The novel is politically challenging, too, since Douwes Dekker's denunciation of Dutch colonial practice is scathing; it electrified his contemporaries. (The Roy Edwards translation in Penguin Classics reads very well.)

Maria Dermout, The Ten Thousand Things -- Maria Dermout (1888-1962) was born and spent much of her life in Indonesia, but blossomed late as a writer, in her sixties. The Ten Thousand Things, her most famous work, is no more conventional a novel than Max Havelaar (I somehow get the feeling that modern Dutch literature is not strong in that sort of convention). It is rather a dreamy collection of linked tales -- maybe a little too dreamy for me (I found it lacking in forward motion, which admittedly it doesn't aim for). The book has had a bit of a cult following since it appeared in English translation, and periodically comes back into print; it is currently available from New York Review Books in a translation by Dutch-American novelist Hans Koning.

Louis Couperus, The Hidden Force -- Another Indonesia-based novel, this is my favorite of the group, a marvelous book that is certain to please any discriminating novel reader. Couperus (1863-1923) was the most famous Dutch writer of his generation, extensively translated into English, and has lately been undergoing an understandable, well-deserved revival. Critics have called him a "genius," and The Hidden Force, with its brilliant plotting and characterization and its profound understanding of the psychology of colonizer and colonized, certainly reads like the work of a genius. I strongly recommend the modern edition from the University of Massachusetts Press; the generally good Alexander Teixera de Mattos translation has been touched up, corrected, and de-bowdlerized by E.M. Beekman, who also contributes excellent introductory materials and end notes.

Willem Elsschot, Soft Soap -- I just started this comic novel of the business world by the celebrated Flemish writer Elsschot (1882-1960) and will report on it further. (Since I wrote this post for my blog, I finished Soft Soap; see the separate thread on Willem Elsschot for my comments.)
 
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Eric

Former Member
Re: Dutch and Flemish Literature

Interesting that someone is doing excursions into a specialist area of Dutch fiction, namely that covering the colonial past of the Netherlands. In Hilversum, near where I live, there are many large houses still standing (though many have been knocked down) that exemplify the enormous wealth accrued in the Dutch colonies during the early 20th century.

One author you didn't mention in your posting, Patrick Murtha, is the Grand Old Lady of Dutch literature Hella S. Haasse, who was born in Batavia (Jakarta, nowadays; the name Batavia was used from 1619-1942) in 1918.

See:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hella_Haasse

You can see from this Wiki article which of her books are available in English.
 

Eric

Former Member
Anyone else read Dutch literature? The Netherlands isn't very far from Britain. This thread is one of the many lead balloon ones, despite the fact that you would think that Brits would take an interest in the country right next door.

Mid-June is the last time anyone commented.
 

Eric

Former Member
Raver, raver? Isn't he the one who wanted to fuck God, in the semblance of a donkey, up His arse, and nearly got done for blasphemy, then became a Roman Catholic, of all things? Talk of the Vicar of Bray. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, Vicar of Bray... You couldn't make these things up if you wanted to.

(In case you think I've had too much ros?, do check these facts out on the Wiki. Dutch-language literature is full of titillation and dodgy sex.)

Source: Gerard Reve - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 

Eric

Former Member
It's three o'clock over here. But do check out the God buggery. Raver really did want to have his sexual cake and eat the wafer.
 
The great Hungarian poet Endre Ady wrote of being buggered by God (before World War I, no less). Martin Seymour-Smith offers a candid translation in the 1985 edition of his New Guide to Modern World Literature ("Stop fucking me, God, stop fucking me").
 

Mirabell

Former Member
It's three o'clock over here. But do check out the God buggery. Raver really did want to have his sexual cake and eat the wafer.


yeah do you have anything to add about his literary value? I believe that's what Fausto was inquiring after. oh and if you live in the netherlands, we share a timezone, I believe. It's just past three here as well.
 
Reve is a celebrated figure in the history of international gay literature, I know that (although I haven't read him yet).

(As to my other reference: I have read pretty much all of Endre Ady that has been translated into English. Ady is a genius.)
 

Mirabell

Former Member
Reve is a celebrated figure in the history of international gay literature, I know that (although I haven't read him yet).

(As to my other reference: I have read pretty much all of Endre Ady that has been translated into English. Ady is a genius.)

who would you compare ady to?
 

Eric

Former Member
Tables turned. I've never read any Raver. Don't intend to. He's been hyped for decades as the brave Dutch author who blew a hole in the family, then filled a hole in an ass, then became a cringing Catholic. (Remember: Catholics are regarded as the most reactionary of reactionaries by many British trendies. Funny business.)

And now we hear that End-Rare Oddie fancied a bit of the "one up the bum, no harm done" treatment by God, of all people. Do we really need to wallow in this mixture or religion and sex? It all seems a bit over-agitated. Maybe Raver nicked it from the Magyar and turned the bums.

Do you get my Vicar of Bray pun, or are you just smoothing over it? Donkeys bray; you'll have got that. But who was the Vicar of Bray? Do some Googling. I don't think you know anything about him at all, at all:

In good King Charles's golden days / The Vicar of Bray mp3 midi free download beach motel Sechelt bed breakfast

The song is funny; Raver appears to have done the same as the vicar. Except that you should substitute "Writer of Holland" for "Vicar of Bray", as well as all the other references, mutatis mutandis.

And here's our Ady friend:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endre_Ady
 

Mirabell

Former Member
so you think I don't know? and even if I didn't (*snorts*), wikipedia is available to me as well. I gather you presume a lot of wrong things. you might want to look into that.

I didn't smooth over anything. I was interested in an answer to fausto's question, which yours wasn't. This I said.
 
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who would you compare ady to?

I haven't got a ready comparison. Ady is fairly extreme. He suffered from syphilis and explicitly called on the disease as his muse. He was very intense respecting Hungarian nationalism. The 1969 edition of his poetry translated by Anton Nyerges and published by the Hungarian Cultural Foundation is a place to start (apparently reprinted by the University Press of America/Rowman & Littlefield in 1987). There are also two collections in English from Corvina (Budapest) which I have not seen: Neighbors of the Night (short stories, 1994) and The Explosive Country (articles, 1977).
 

Eric

Former Member
I presume, Mirabell, that there a lot of things that you don't know. We all have gaps in our knowledge. I frequently consult the Wikipedia to get an outline of someone I know little about. But you always have to take the entries with a pinch of salt, as they can be manipulated.

Syphilis doesn't help. I believe it ultimately rots the brain. Not nice for a gifted poet. There seems to be a morbid fascination among people for the seamier side of literature: the disease, the sexual side, and so on, while many truly great writers led relatively boring outward lives.

I haven't bothered with Reve, but I get the feeling that the blend of blasphemy, homosexuality and Catholicism has perhaps made him a more visible writer than he would otherwise have been. The Dutch love to go on and on about Reve, whilst one author who wasn't gay, Papist or blasphemous, i.e. Simon Vestdijk, is simply never promoted abroad. Vestdijk did nothing special outwardly in life, but I believe that history will show him to be a soul of broader vistas than Reve.

Dutch book promotion, and the books chosen by the great and the good to translate, seem an eccentric mixture of random authors. While it is true that it is very hard to promote Dutch literature in the English-speaking world, the books you find on any shelf of "Dutch literature in translation" in bookshops in Holland are an odd ragbag of a few works of genius, plus some modern and middling stuff. The Dutch appear to have no clear policy of promoting their top authors. It's the odd book here, the odd book there. Hermans and Couperus are represented by a couple of novels each. That is a start, but a tiny one. And on the Flemish side, there are Claus and Boon.

In the 1960s, the Dutch tried themselves to start a series of great works of Dutch & Flemish literature in English translation, but that fizzled out decades ago; you can still find the turquoise-bound hardbacks in second-hand bookshops. But there has not been a consistent effort of late to give Dutch literature as a whole a face in the English-speaking world.
 

nnyhav

Reader
So what distinguishes Reve's trajectory from, say, Joris-Karl Huysmans? (his daddy was Dutch y'know ... and at this rate Reve will probably be up for beatification in a few years)
 

Mirabell

Former Member
I presume, Mirabell, that there a lot of things that you don't know. We all have gaps in our knowledge. I frequently consult the Wikipedia to get an outline of someone I know little about. But you always have to take the entries with a pinch of salt, as they can be manipulated.

Oi, you may not believe it, but, when I don't know something, I am perfectly capable of looking it up myself. You didn't even explain. you just linked the wiki.
and its a rather large pinch
often its just plain wrong
as here
In fact, D?blin had already finished the work when he read Ulysses which inspired him to radically rewrite his own book.
Berlin Alexanderplatz - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 
Syphilis doesn't help. I believe it ultimately rots the brain. Not nice for a gifted poet. There seems to be a morbid fascination among people for the seamier side of literature: the disease, the sexual side, and so on, while many truly great writers led relatively boring outward lives.

Point taken -- we definitely shouldn't neglect writers whose biographies are "relatively boring" (although few really are boring, on close inspection). But there will always be a fascination with the seamy-living ones, and this occasionally elevates minor writers into objects of fascination (see the terrific book Four Dada Suicides).

But Ady wasn't minor. And his distinctive blend of religion, sex, nationalism, philosophy, and so on, informed by the linguistically and culturally anomalous position of the Magyar in Central Europe, and by his own galvanic talent, results in unforgettable utterance.

Check out the Seymour-Smith pages on Ady in the New Guide to Modern World Literature; he is a fine explicant. And he gives the God-buggering poem whole, in a fine unexpurgated translation -- and it's a great poem.
 
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